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cessarily of continual recurrence in such exposition, there is needed for them a simple and brief expression to save not the labour only but the great obscurity of continual circumlocution. In such cases it has been customary, I believe, either to form new words within the language, if its genius allowed it, or to adapt words from some other language. In either case, the harshness of the new-formed words has not of fended in the language of science, and they have gradually passed, with the extension of knowledge, into the language of the country.

This case I have stated, rather to separate it from the consideration of the present question than in part of it. The question, I conceive, of fixing a language of philosophy, applies to those subjects and those ideas which are already familiar in philosophy, and for which expression has hitherto been sought in the language of the country. It appears to some writer whose thoughts are more precise, or he fancies so, than those of others who have treated the same subject before him, that they have used certain terms too laxly or vaguely-by which I should understand variably, for any vagueness or laxity in the signification of a word on any single occasion, can mean merely that the conception which the passage should express is so obscurely and imperfectly expressed, as not to assign the exact signification of each of its terms, which would be no more in effect than that such a particular sentence was ill-written, which could plainly be no ground for proposing any general alteration in language. The vagueness or laxity of signification, therefore, which gives ground for proposing to assign the meaning of a word must be a variable signification. The inconvenience or evil it is intended to remedy must be, that the meaning of any such word is so unfixed in the popular language, that philosophical writers themselves have used it, some with one application, or one extent of meaning, and some with another; or the same writers differently, at different times. But still what is the inconvenience? If every passage in itself were justly written, it should assign the meaning in which the word is there used, and leave no room for obscurity. But I presume, that what happens is this. The meVOL. VI.

taphysical writer, having exceedingly familiar to his mind certain thoughts and certain courses of thought, and having their expression in like manner exceedingly familiar, does by degrees come to affix to any terms of variable signification occurring in such expression, that peculiar meaning which they there possess, more readily than any other. So that his own mind no longer needs with the term those circumstances of concomitant expression, which would otherwise be necessary to suggest and determine the peculiar acceptation. His mind leaps, as it were, to that acceptation which is so familiar. And in writing he no longer conceives the different state of other men's minds from his own in this respect; but writing to them, as he speaks to himself, he uses a too elliptical expression, and sets before them a term which he distinctly understands, unaccompanied by those qualifying circumstances which should determine or even suggest its peculiar meaning. To him, perhaps, it would bear his own appropriated meaning, under circumstances which to other minds would determine another signification.

Under the force of this kind of habitual impression of certain terms, an inquirer of great force of mind, and great clearness and distinctness of thought, might, it should seem, in writing, use misleading expressions. And yet it would seem to me, that in such a case, nothing more than the knowledge of his writings, and such acquaintance as they might give with the habits of his mind, would be required to remove such error, and to clear up occasional obscurity.

If in the minds of different writers the same word has acquired, in other senses, this kind of appropriation,— there is room, it is evident, for still greater obscurity and error in the confusion of associations with which its use will be attended in passing from one of these writers to another. And the obscurity and error which may thus attach themselves to writings of great merit and value, are the inconvenience and evil which I conceive it is intended to remedy, when it is proposed to fix the philosophical meaning of the words of language.

But still I am not able to understand the remedy; for I can find in it, after all, nothing else than the

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very disorder it is designed to remove. For what does the writer in effect, who limits by definition the meaning of his terms? He does that expressly and avowedly which others have perhaps unconsciously done. He takes the word from its large free use in the language, and attaches it especially to the meaning, which, in his own metaphysical speculation, is its most important meaning. For himself such definitions may be of avail; they are a means to clear up obscurity from his own language; they are a glossary annexed to his writings. But beyond this, for general application in philo sophy, how do they seem to be available? The peculiar uses of terms which are found in the language of each inquirer belong to his specula tions. If those speculations are just and important, and if on these, or on any other grounds, they are of autho rity with the public, they will carry to a certain degree into public use his own unconscious appropriation of terms; they will make their expression intelligible; and, if there is good reason, will impress its peculiarity permanently on the language of philosophy, and at last on the language of the country. What other authority can any writer attach to his own

peculiar expressions, to his own limitation of terms, than that which be longs to his mind and his works?→→→ All inquirers of original thought are candidates alike for fixing the terms of language; all impress their own meaning on its words with a force which is the force of their own minds. He whose paramount authority overbears his competitors, and leaves to his successors no choice but to adopt his language, has, with or without definition, fixed the language of philosophy. Whilst he who falls short of this authority, however carefully he may have limited and defined his significations, falls back into the number of those who, by their peculiarity of expression, have prepared obscurity for the writings of others, and, except to the most exact and studious of their readers, have left it upon their own.

It would seem to me, that the best a metaphysical writer can do for himself with respect to the important terms of philosophy, is to be consistent with himself in using them; and the best he can do for others, to disturb them as little as possible from their natural signification in the language to which they belong.

Oriel College, Oxford.

S. T. P.

LOUIS XVIII. AND THE FRENCH ROYALISTS.

THE character of Louis XVIII. has been so long obscured, formerly by his exile, and latterly by the eclipsing glory of the Sieur Caze, his favourite, that one must look thirty years back to find any traces of his real disposition, which is the more material, under present circumstances, inasmuch as it has given rise to the reproach so commonly thrown out against the Ultras of France, that they are more Royalist than the King.' A little examination into the early history of the revolution will shew that it was hardly possible to be less Royalist than Louis XVIII. was in those days of trial.

We cannot suspect that he was paralysed by the same vile and odious motives which excited the activity of Philip Egalité; but undoubtedly the circumstance in which he stood, of being the second in succession to the crown, and the first in succession to the regency, ought, as a matter of

mere good taste, to have made his af fection towards his unhappy and persecuted brother, a little more prominent. It was surely a singular and unlucky coincidence, that he should be, of all his family, after the Dauphin, the nearest to the throne, and after Egalité, the dearest to the Jacobins. It is true that this disgraceful popularity was softened down by the very qualities which perhaps contributed to create it. His manners were low; his tastes were rather worse than his manners, and whatever abilities he may have possessed, were so buried under the sensuality and selfishness of his mode of life, that they gave neither hopes nor fears to the discontented nor to the loyal. Observe, we speak of thirty years ago. It is to be hoped, and indeed there is reason to believe, that these thirty years of adversity (if the king considered that to be adversity during which he never wanted two courses) may have in some degree

improved the personal character of this prince. But it is surely not too much to say, that somewhat of his original and natural indolence and selfishness is likely still to adhere to him, and to render him as indifferent to what may be the state of France under his younger brother, as he was to what was the state of France under his elder brother.

In 1789, a patriotic wit attributes to each of the royal family a song, the first line of which is supposed to be characteristic, The Count D'Artois sings,

**I am a soldier and a gentleman," but the Comte de Provence (Louis XVIII.) only mutters,

"I am no king; and, what is worse, no

prince."

Again-in another jeu d'esprit, also from a patriot pen, where characteristic residences in the different streets of Paris are assigned to the royal family, Egalité is lodged in the Rue de Louis le Grand; the Count D'Artois (whose devotion to his brother was so honourable that even his enemies respected it,) is placed in the Place Royale, while Monsieur (Louis XVIII.) is trundled into the Rue des Francs Bourgeois a street, says St Foix, which has its name from being inhabited by the lowest and meanest of the people. These not unimportant trifles are to be found in the Memoires pour servir a l'Histoire de 1789, p. 30 and 116.

But this, you will perhaps say, is the malice of the Jacobins. Not al

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together; for the Jacobins detested
M. D'Artois; yet, as we see, did him
some kind of justice; and why should
we take it for granted that they did not
also do justice to M. de Provence? But
let us see what the Royalists thought of
him. In the 15th volume of the
Actes des Apotres, p. 128, there is one of
those satirical songs called by the
French Noels: the verse in which
Louis XVIII is described, may be
quoted as an additional proof of what
the public opinion even of the Royalists
of 1790, was with regard to him :-
Grand ami du silence,
Du bon vin, du repos.
Le Comte de Provence
Balbutia ces mots;

"Souffrez que promptement chez moi je
me retire,

"Je crains trop de l'embarras; "Mon frère est dans un vilain pas, "Mais, helas! qu'il s'en tire.” which may be thus imitated

Very active at clearing his plate,

Very clever at holding his tongue; In size he is Louis the great,

And thus he half-hiccupp'd half-sung: "Permit me to make my escape,

"I'm a poor inoffensive good man? "My brother, who's in a dd scrape, "Must get out o't as well as he can." We think one may now safely say, that it is no very great crime in the French Royalists to be more Royalist than Louis the XVIIIth, who seeing his brother, his king, in a dd scrape,' is represented as leaving him to get out of it as well as he could.'

M.

EXTRACTS FROM THE PRATO FIORITO," ON THE VICE OF DANCING.

MR EDITOR, The godly book above mentioned lately furnished me some important les sons, or familiar examples, relative to the sin of usury, which you agreed with me in thinking peculiarly apposite and instructive, on the eve of the meeting of a new Parliament, wherein it was apprehended that matters of this nature might undergo a great deal of discussion, and require the salutary check of ancient experience, to restrain the too licentious spirit of modern innovation. The close of the first session of the same Parliament induces me to refer again to the same valuable repertory of monastic lore with a like view of benefiting such of my

Protestant country-men, or women, as may not be too zealous in the cause of our reformed religion to think of availing themselves of the wisdom of the scarlet lady; and the first subject which I happen to hit upon is one which appears to me, of all others, to afford an useful field for reflection at the termination of a London season. It is the following,

"How damnable and detectable a thing, And how odious to God, is vain and dissolute dancing."

Lib. I. Cap X.

"Truly," observes our pious and eloquent author, "one of the most singular follies committed by man and woman among the vanities of this world, is light and

dishonest dancing; which (as a learned doctor writes) it may be well said, is the head and fountain of all sins and wickedness-or, at least,"-(and here we may well admire the scrupulous spirit of candour and moderation in argument which distinguishes our author, and forbids him from asserting even so obvious a truism as this, without adding the due qualification,)" or, at least, of the greater part." To have stated that the sin of dancing is the root and foundation of all other sins without exception, few persons would have carried their criticisms so far as to condemn for being hyperbolical; but our author is too conscientious to assert, even as a general proposition, what may be liable to be disproved in particular instances, and I must confess that, in my opinion, he has rather strengthened than detracted ought from his argument by the modest sobriety of the sub. sequent qualification. Thus, "Tutti i Francesi sono ladri" is a national remark, the justness of which no true Englishman could dispute even in this bold uncompromising way of stating it but how much more forcible is it rendered by the qualifying clause-"Non tutti-ma Buona Parte." But to proceed, "Inasmuch as," adds our author, still following up the same sentence, "it is impossible ever sufficiently to express how many and great are the evils which spring from dancing; seeing that by it all human feelings are vitiated; the heart it. self grows corrupt and hardened; and, finally, the poor and miserable soul utterly perisheth."

He proceeds to trace the origin and invention of this "dissolute and lascivious exercise" to the devils in Hell, what time the Israelites, after feasting and gorging themselves with wine, fell to dancing round the molten calf in the desert; and he then enumerates the several unbecoming actions, by which (as he strongly expresses it,) young men and maidens, while dancing, do (as it were) crucify again their Redeemer." And first, he observes, "they find a sort of sensual gratification in, and moreover obtain the applause of the spectators by the act of, leaping as high as they are able not reflecting that in exact proportion to the altitude of every leap will be the depth to which they are doomed to sink in Hell." Secondly, " it oftentimes happens that dancers spread out and extend their arms in order to give greater energy to their performance, by which stretching out of the arms in this profane amusement they display a manifest disregard of the holy crucifix, the figure whereof they so irreverently imitate." The lifting of the head and voice are in like manner

construed into acts of undesigned, but nevertheless most impious, parody; and he finishes his exordium by a warn ing, peculiarly terrible to the class of male and female dandies, that the more curious and vain their attire at these indecorous exhibitions, the more conspicuous will be the deformity and rudity of their appearance" at the day of judgment.'

We shall select the third of the legends, or "examples," which follow these terrible denunciations. It shows "how certain persons, dancing on Christmas eve, were unable to cease dancing for a whole year afterwards.'

It is written in the "Speculum Historiale," how in a certain town in Saxony, where was a church dedicated to St Magnus the martyr, in the tenth year of the Emperor Honorius, just when the first mass was begun upon Christmas Eve, some vain young people, at the instigation of the devil, were set a dancing and singing in a dissolute manner hard by the church, in such manner that they hindered and disturbed the divine service.Whereupon the priest, moved with a holy and just indignation, commanded them to be still, and to give over this accursed vanity. But the aforesaid miserable sinners, for all that was said to them, and commanded them, would never cease from that execrable profaneness and devilish mischief. Upon which the priest, inflamed with zeal, cried out in a loud voice-" May it please God and St Magnus that ye all continue to sing and dance after this fashion for an entire year to come from henceforward." Wonderful to relate ! So did these words of that holy man prevail, that, by divine permission, these wretched persons, (being fifteen in number, and three of them females,) did, in fact, so continue dancing and skipping about for a whole year toge ther; nor did any rain fall upon them during all that time, nor did they feel cold, nor heat, nor hunger, nor thirst; nor did they ever tire; nor did their garments wax old, nor their shoes wear out. But as if they were beside themselves, like to people possessed with phrenzy, or idiots, they kept singing and dancing continually, night and day. At the end of the year came the bishop, who gave them absolution, and reconciled them before the altar of St Magnus. Which having been

done, the three women suddenly expired, and the rest slept for three days and nights successively, and afterwards did such penance for their sin, that they were thought worthy to work miracles after death. And some of them that lived longest, manifested the punishment of their offence in dreadful tremblings of their limbs, which they suffered even unto the day of their death. The sixth example relates how a virgin of noble family, and " of marvellous beauty, according to the flesh," became extremely anxious to go and join in the festivities and balls of this world; and, being restrained in her evil inclinations by her pious parents, waxed therefore very sad and sorrowful indeed. In which state being visited by a holy man, to whom she made confession of her vain wishes, he asked her, whether, if it were proposed to her, by the privation of a single day's pleasure, to secure the enjoyment of a whole year's dancing and junketing, without interruptions, she would not agree to the bargain? And, having answered that certainly she

would do so with the greatest alacrity, the good man therefore read her a sermon, (which I may be excused for not inserting at length,) the object of which was to prove that, by her present denial of similar enjoyments on earth, she would secure to herself an eternity of them in heaven; and this he founded upon three texts-1. From the prophet Jeremiah, "Tu ornaberis tympanis tuis, et egredieris choro ludentium, &c." 2. From the Psalms, "Prævenerant principes conjuncti Psallentibus in medio juvenculorum tympanistrianum." And 3. From the Hymn of the Virgins, " quacunque deges, Virgines sequuntur, atque laudibus post te canentes cursitant."And with these sacred promises the simple maiden was so much moved that she instantly became influenced with holy desires, and after dedicating her virginity to Christ, went, at the expiration of five years, to enjoy the literal accomplishment of her compact, in footing and jigging it to all eternity.

A EUROPEAN NATIONAL TRIBUNAL.

It is rather curious to recall to our recollection the States of Europe as they existed in 1737, and the ranks which they were, at that time, supposed to hold relatively to each other. The following list is extracted from the celebrated Abbé de St Pierre's plan for a European diet.-Ann. Polit. tom 2, p. 613.

1. The Emperor of Austria
2. The King of France
3. The King of Spain
4. The King of Portugal
5. The King of England
6. The States of Holland
7. The King of Denmark
8. The King of Sweden
9. The King of Poland
10. The Empress of Russia
11. The Pope

12. The King of Prussia
13. The Elector of Bavaria
14. The Elector Palatine
15. The Swiss

16. The Ecclesiastical Electorates
18. The Republic of Venice
18. The King of Naples
19. The King of Sardinia.

The celebrated "reverie" (as Fleury called it,) of a European diet to be -formed of deputies from each of the

above named powers, to determine all differences by a kind of judicial decision, and thus to ensure eternal peace, appears now-a-days much less visionary than it did in 1737. In truth, the Congresses of Vienna, Paris, and Aix-la-Chapelle, in which the four great powers, Austria, England, Prussia, and Russia, (France being admitted latterly to the conferences,) settled all the questions relative to the division and policy of the great European family, were diets upon M. de St Pierre's principle. And it will be well for mankind if a continuation of the same system shall lead to the happy result which the philanthropic Abbé contemplated, of a general and lasting peace. Why should it not? Why should a shot be fired in Europe when Austria, England, France, Holland, Prussia, Russia, and Spain, form a tribunal to mediate between powers who may have a difference, and a united force to punish any country which should dare to commit aggression upon another.

Financial difficulties are the origin of all national discontents and political revolutions. It would be hard to find

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